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2013.07.29 - So much for Gotham having a quiet evening
After Damian and Huntress's seemingly idle chatter on a rooftop in the Bowery, they did eventually find someone cruising for a bruising and made sure to put the smack down on a drug deal in progress. Trouble is, since Huntress was the much taller target of the pair, one of the drug dealers thought she needed more copper and lead in her vitamin intake. Damian did a very thorough job of making sure none of the remaining thugs were at all inclined to open fire again, and then somehow (let's not dwell on how exactly) the two of them managed to make it to the Clocktower. With Hutnress's Ducati. And, since it's her habit now to keep Oracle's comm link in her ear, the woman in the Clocktower likely heard every minute of it. Now that Oracle is no longer the faceless HAL, it's quite likely she hears a lot more of what happens to Huntress, over all. And, generally, she's fine with that. Though, seriously: Listening to your operatives get shot up is NOT fun. For anyone. At the moment, knowing the pair are enroute, and that hospitals are required to report gunshot victims admitted there, Barbara has pulled out a trauma kit and is prepping for incoming... even if incoming includes Darkwing. That should be interesting. But, it's also far, far outside of her focus, right now. Her focus is on making sure that the pair who should be arriving in the elevator momentarily will be taken care of as well as she can manage. And praying that doesn't include emergency surgery. Well Darkwing left more with broken limbs that there are gun shots but they weren't going to be moving for a bit with the way Darkwing took them down. He's not exactly the least... violent member of the cape wearing denizens of Gotham, possibly one of the more violent 'good guys'. He actually doesn't seem to be trying to draw attention to himself. If anything, he's seeming to try and pull off his father's habit of blending into the shadows, and probably would do a good job if it weren't for the fact the Clocktower's designed no doubt to make sure that Oracle can see every corner. He escaped the violence unscathed personally. "That was a good bit of practice. Shame they were dumb enough to shoot at each other. Would have liked to punch a few more of them instead." Huntress is running out of steam, and fast. The 9mm round she took to her left leg is mostly covered by a small makeshift field dressing that she usually has stashed on her belt, and she's really REALLY trying to avoid leaning on Damian. Not only because he's just a kid and he's easily half a foot shorter than her (counting her shoes), but also because she saw what he did to those thugs, and she'd rather he not 'practice' on her too. "Uh, yeah." Distracted, much? Shut up, leg wounds HURT. Especially having to walk. Uh huh. Sure, H. Frigging wuss. The KID wiped the floor with them. What'd you do? Bleed? Shut up. Barbara coasts over to the pair in a lightweight wheelchair. "Here," she says, dispensing with any formal greeting in favor of getting down to the business at hand. She's awkwardly dragging a slightly heavier wheelchair along behind her. It's tethered to the back of her current chair. "Sit down, H. We'll get you over under some light and onto the cot so I can take a look at that leg." Not hard to see which part of her got hit, given the reddening bandage. She does spare a glance for Darkwing, however, a red brow drifting up somewhat at his comment. "Mooks aren't known for smarts." She glances at Huntress. "Just guns..." "She went left when she should have gone right." Darkwing says standing there and looking rather irritated. "Mook? Streetslang for those thugs? Guns dealers seem to have less brain than the average imbecile." The teen says standing there looking at Barbara coldly,"Who're you exactly?" He doesn't know that Oracle is the woman that's before him now, or he would probably be a little more polite. Not very much so. "You kidding me?" Huntress mutters mostly to herself at the wheelchair. Of course, her leg chooses to voice an opinion as well and then she's leaning on the thing's arm despite her initial protest. "Damn those bastards, mooks or otherwise. And I'd have GONE right if you hadn't been blocking my shot you little lunatic." Her tone is only mildly scathing. "We've all been there," Barbara says in response to Damian's description of how H got the injury. She glances at him, at his pugnacious question. "I'm Oracle," she says simply. "And you're in my home. Kindly remember that." Apparently Bruce's lover wasn't big on the whole manners thing with her kid. "Just use it as a walker, if you're not going to sit in it," Babs tells H. "I can't steer it for you." She needs both hands on her own chair wheels, being the kind to eschew electric wheel chairs. (Until they can be suped up to become flying racing bikes, what's the point?) Somehow, however, they eventually make it over to the cot -- where there's good lighting and a better trauma kit, so Babs, blue neoprene gloves on her hands, can start undressing H's wound to inspect it. "You had plenty of room to move. It is not my fault you didn't know how to dodge." Darkwing says casually to Huntress. "So you're Oracle. You're good at tactics." Yes. It's a compliment and he actually seems that he does actually mean what he is saying. So there! He can have the ability to behave but he still looks grumpy. "You were the voice over the comm system the other day that was patching things through..." Huntress settles onto the aforementioned cot with a grimace and, as much as she has as much of a prolem with personal space as the next vigilante, she accepts Oracle's help gracefully enough. Well, other than the occasional muttered curse or wince. "Bullsh...crap, punk. I can dodge just fine." That's it for her contributions to the conversation for the moment as she closes her eyes and does her best to block out what Oracle is doing. "I am," Barbara admits to Damian. "And I was." As to the compliment. "And, thank you." With the field dressing removed, she can get a closer look at the wound, though it requires peeling back the blood-soaked fabric of H's costume. That's not much fun for either of them. Barbara has dressed too many field wounds in her time -- many of them on her, or on Cassandra... who's very likely out cracking heads at this very moment. "Look like it went clean through," she says after a moment or two. "And that it missed anything too serious. That's a blessing." She glances to H. "This is gonna hurt a little more." At that point, she gets down the business of actually cleaning the wound and packing it for proper healing. "Maybe when you're fighting alone but you obviously didn't do so well in this situation." Darkwing says shrugging his shoulders a little bit,"You've potential but I think even D...Robin is above you in skill right now." And he'll kill ANYONE who tells Drake that he said that right after he kills Drake. He stretches a little bit and rotates his right arm. "So yes. the fact is you were either allowing yourself to be overdistracted, unused to fighting near someone or you dodn't know how to dodge." He says matter of factly. He's not looking at Barbara. She's unimportant for the time being to him. Huntress tenses as Barbara cleans the wound, trying her damndest to not make a sound and ultimately failing. Of course, having the Brat there critiquing her ISN'T HELPING. "Damnit, kid, shut. up." she grates. Honestly. Just... can it. Nit pick all you want later, but for god's sake not right NOW. Barbara rather agrees with Huntress, at the moment. But, she doesn't say it, being too focused on the task at hand to bother saying anything to him about it. As it is, it's another few moments before she's as done as she can be. The last thing she does is strip off her gloves and deposit them, and the rest of the bloodied materials before them, into a biowaste disposal unit at the end of the cot. Then, she turns to her trauma kit and pulls out some heavy duty aspirin and sets the bottle before the wounded vigilante. "Take 2," she tells her, "while I fetch you some water to swallow them with." The response to being told to shut up is a smirk, but he does graciously go quiet for now, but he doesn't stay still though. He's examining what he can see. Mask remains on for the time being though. They haven't earned that level of trust yet. Huntress hasn't taken her mask off either, though if anyone can figure out who she is, it'd be Oracle. Once her injury is bandaged and not being SCOURED anymore, she opens her eyes in time to get handed a pill bottle, and considers swalling three or four instead of the two that Barabara instructed. She figures she's down for the rest of the night anyway, so why not? Opening the bottle, she starts to shake pills out onto her gloved hand. Two, three... What he can see is a fairly sweet set up, one that could compete with the Bat's underground lair, in many ways. The difference is the one section at the end that holds 'distractions' -- the lounge area and, by the lift down into her apartment, the mantle of the original Batgirl. Well, that and the plushie doll version of the same that sits by the main console beneath the clock face. For the most part, though? It's a sweet setup... if tailored to the height of a world viewed from a seat in a wheelchair. "Stay off your feet for the next couple of days," Babs advises H, returning with the water. She sets the glass down and plucks the pill bottle away before a fourth falls into the vigilante's hand. "They're strong. Trust me. I know pain meds." She's had an awful lot of experience with them. A beat. "You want me to send you home with a wheelchair?" She rather doubts it. So, she turns and puts the bottle and the trauma kit back where it lives when not in use. But, no. It's not like she couldn't find out the real identities of either of them. And likely has -- at least with Huntress. But, she respects their desire for secrecy. Shares it, even, save that present circumstances really don't much allow for it. So much for the anonymity of the net. Well good luck finding any information on Damian Wayne. He's not exactly someone who is registered. Darkwing looks at Barbara curiously for a moment,"You remind me of someone mother spoke of once." He says looking at her again for a moment before inhaling deeply and then exhaling,"This place is well constructed for what you do." Yes. That's another compliment from him. Huntress doesn't protest when Barbara takes the pill bottle away. She managed to get away with three pills as it is. Tossing them back and chasing them with a few swigs of water, Huntress considers leaving for home immediately before they actually kick in and leave her unable to drive her Ducati without crashing. "I kinda said the same thing the first time I came by here." Oh, chances are good Barbara will look into Darkwing -- even if she finds herself stymied by his heretofore undocumented existence. He's a kid. Dressed up as a vigilanted... and apparently extremely effective at it. Fact is, she started checking in on him just after he turned up at that Club. That she's found nothing of note? Well, she can always ask Batman what he knows. He is the world's greatest detective, after all. But that's something that can wait until later. For now, she just gives the kid a small, wry smile. "It helps to have the right tools. And, before I was in this chair, I was out there. So, I know what I need to prepare for, too." Her head cants faintly. "So who is it I remind you of?" "You were out there? Mother mentioned that He had someone who looked a bit like you that worked with him." Darkwing says shrugging a little bit,"She had a different name though, and while name changes do happen, I cannot be sure of you." He says simply. The fact that he's said anything is a sign he's giving them some trust but he doesn't say who He is or his mother's name. "The right tool for the job makes them easier, whether you're tuning an engine, assassinations, or just wanting to knock someone out." Huntress shifts as if she's going to stan...uh, maybe not. OW. Huntress follows the conversation without half of her attention, the rest of her mind preoccupied by how the HELL she's going to deal with her leg AND whatever it is the Bat wants her to do on top of the weird quasi undercover thing Oracle's been working with her on. She's starting to feel like she's juggling an increasing number of random unrelated objects. Ah, the joys of vigilantes in Gotham. So many demands, so little time. The best Barbara can do, right now, is hope that Helena's leg is more-or-less healed, or at least useable, the next time the Kings call a fight club meeting. Because the last thing either of them needs is someone taking a cheap shot to her thigh and crippling her. "You wanna crash here, tonight?" she asks H, glancing at her as the woman settles back down. "I can redirect traffic away from here, if necessary." Meaning she can tell Cass to use the front door, rather than than the roof, and avoid the ops center for a few hours. Again, her attention returns to Damian. "So, who's your mother?" she asks, now, not really expecting an answer. Her old cape and cowl, not to mention the body suit with the big yellow bat symbol on it, stand in a glass domed tube at the far end of the room. It's no secret, then, that she used to work with Him. But, she doesn't need to confirm that any clearer for the kid. Blue eyes go to the suit, Damian considers for a moment,"You cannot tell Him. He has to find that out on his own. My mother is Talia al Ghul." He says seriously,"Do not tell him though. I know he took blood sample and I think it best that he figure it out on his own." Course Damian just named himself the grandson of the head of the League of Assassins but ah well. He looks at her,"Let's just say mother and I are not seeing Eye to Eye at the moment." Huntress looks over at Barbara and ... whoah. Okay, so much for driving home. Damn those pills kick in fast. "Uh, yeah, prob'ly best." She meant the crashing here part as it's already happening, not the redirecting traffic. That comment honestly probably got missed as her brain starts to shut down. At least her leg is dialing back to a dull roar. She squints at Damian, though the name he just dropped means absolutely nothing to her. But she doess offer out because it's completely random, "Hey, if you think I need t'learn how to fight near someone... you gonna teach me, squirt?" Oh, now, there's a revelation. "Talia al Ghul?" Barbara's brows rise and she nods slowly. "Well, that explains a lot, then." Like where he learned to fight. "I take it this... disagreement is why you're now in Gotham? It must be quite the disagreement." She glances to Huntress now, that wry smile from before joined by faintly amused eyes. Yeah. The woman has enough sedative and pain killer in her now to knock out a horse. She won't be going anywhere... let alone fighting... for a while. Babs makes a mental note to call Dinah and warn her Helena may be late into her shift, if she has one, tomorrow. "In a sense. I wish to know him better. He represents Justice and this is good. She thinks that I should have stayed there longer. However, I successfully defeated an attempt to kill him this year, so I was allowed to do this." Damian says this rather plainly as if he were discussing the weather,"For now she will abide by the agreement, so we shouldn't need to worry about her sending anyone to fetch me." Meaning no league members popping up and wanting to take the kid by force and not caring who got hurt. Turning to look at Huntress, Damian says,"I can attempt it, but I am not sure that you would be up for the methods that I would be using to train you." It's not everyone who can survive that sort of thing. "You won't tell him right? Definitely don't tell Robin anything about me." There's just a little bit of derision when he says the name Robin. The question though is directed towards both women. Huntress waves a hand vaguely across her face. "Mum." Maybe that's her way of saying she'll keep Damian's admissions to herself? Well, good look getting confirmation right now. She ever so gradually falls over sideways onto the cot that is her seat, her head now at the foot of the simple bed and her feet still mostly resting on the floor. Boneless. Sleep is sounding really good right now. And some pancakes. No, the pancakes can wait. Sleep first. Barbara turns her chair toward Helena and carefully reaches out to readjust her on the cot. With the upper body strength she's developed since the accident, it's not nearly as hard a task as one might think. It's more awkward than anything else, and that purely because the vigilante is a sack of dead weight, at this point. "I won't say anything," she tells Damian, "as long as he continues to have no reason to come and ask me about it." A beat. "And as long as your mother continues to honor her end of your bargain. Besides, there's no reason for her to say anything. Not if he has a blood sample already. Bruce is smart. He'll figure it out. "Good. I want him to figure it out on his own. It's sort of like a game." Damian says giving a rather creepy smile. "The best things are those one learns for oneself. I should be going though. There are possibly still crimes going on and that fight was just a good warm up. I cannot go getting rusty and weak like Robin." Least he's not using Drake's real name. That being said he starts making his way out the same way that he came in. Huntress is vaguely aware of someone doing the equivalent of tucking her into bed, and she's reminded of her father, one of those peaceful moments so long ago. Her eyes, still open though clearly no longer seeing anything in the room, finally drift closed. Something she'd no doubt be horrified to discover. Later. Category:Log